Thief
by scarlet phlame
Summary: Jack stole Ianto's diary, so it was only fitting that Ianto should steal something from him. The Captain's wrist strap seemed like the best object, so that was what he'd taken. From there, the time hopper took him on an adventure through space and time, and all to various places around Jack's timeline. Ianto begins to learn about Jack's past and present, and eventually his future.
1. Prologue

Time Hopper: Prologue

AN: Enjoy...

* * *

The ground beneath his feet was hot.

Ianto stumbled, nauseous and disoriented as his surroundings slowly sank in. His head spun and he pushed out his arms to break his fall, sand burning his fingers as his mind reeled. He coughed; his throat was drier than the scathing substance he'd collapsed onto.

The Hub was never hot.

He let out another dry cough, pushing off the ground, trying desperately to stand up. His vision blurred and he stumbled again, collapsing so his cheek was resting on the white-hot ground.

Just a moment ago, he'd been in the Hub. What had he been doing? He couldn't remember. He began to crawl, although he wasn't sure where he was going or why. He just had to get out of here.

A blast of hot air hit him in the face and he coughed as the wind began to kick up around him, trapping him in a swirling vortex of sand. Somehow, he was able to stand. He stumbled over the wind that rubbed against his skin like sandpaper.

Why was it so hot?

The first explanation he'd had for randomly appearing in a desert was that he'd finally lost it, and had begun to hallucinate in the Hub. But the wind and air felt so real.

Rivulets of sweat trickled down from his forehead, and he clumsily wiped them away, sand crawling up his arms as the wind hurled the golden stuff at him. He coughed again, and was rewarded with another mouthful of sand.

He stumbled for the last time, and every ounce of energy drained from him, he fell back onto the ground.

And everything went black.

* * *

The little leather-bound book was on Jack's desk.

Ianto supposed it was just a matter of time before the immortal man came to find his diary. Still... it was odd seeing the little bound book on Jack's desk. It sent an involuntary shudder down his spine, and he shunned the thing as he placed a cup of coffee on Jack's desk.

The question was, how much of it had Jack read? Even if he took the book now, Jack had probably used one of those duplicating alien artifacts to make another copy. Taking the book back would not stop him reading it.

Defeated, he let out a sigh, almost turning to leave before he decided against it, scooping up the book from the Captain's desk.

Then his gaze fell upon the innocent little wrist-strap sitting on the table.

It was a contraption Jack refused to remove, no matter what. In the shower, during sex, even sleeping. He'd never seen the strongbox off of the Captain's wrist, so whatever it was doing, sitting there so innocently, sent an involuntary shudder down his spine. It was so unnatural, so... out of character for Jack to take it off.

The man would be absolutely furious if he took it.

Without any further thought, he snatched it up from the desk, fingering the leather item and snapping open the little lid. The insides of it were metal and covered with buttons. The shape itself was in an oval, with three slanted buttons next to a circular pad with indented arrows point north, south, east and west. There were several perpendicular indented lines in the silver material, and a bit of what appeared to be textured golden grating.

He fitted it onto his wrist. The leather was out of shape for him, probably because Jack had worn it so often and never taken it off, and it'd become moulded into the shape of his wrist. It was lopsided, and he eventually gave up the struggle to push it into the shape of his wrist.

And then, as if the thing had a mind of its own, it immediately coiled itself onto his wrist.

_Wrist size readjusted_, it chirped in a feminine voice much like Siri's.

Slightly surprised, he tried to pry off the thing, but the silver tooth refused to leave the buckle. He was just struggling to remove it as white light flooded through the walls from everywhere, and he began to fall.


	2. Boeshane

Time Hopper: Chapter One

AN: Yes, this is canon-compliant... but has CoE events in a bit of a twist.

* * *

Ianto's eyes flickered open and the first thing he realized was that a damp towel was resting on his forehead.

His lips were cracked and he was parched. Slowly running his dry tongue along the roof of his mouth, he let out a faint wheeze and examined his surroundings to the best of his ability.

He seemed to be in some sort of small house, with clean white tiling floors and grainy white walls. The windows were rectangular, wide and long and just about two feet high. Filtered light seeped into the room, and he welcomed the light, glad to see sunshine again. He could barely see ahead, but it seemed as if the sky stretched on forever.

There was one thing he noticed, 'though, and that was the fact that the sky he was looking at didn't seem anything like the sky he'd come to know and love. It was as if he was on a different planet...

Stomach churning, he averted his gaze and let out a groan, before memories slowly came flooding back to him. His hand automatically flew to his other arm, sighing in relief when he found the wrist-strap still there. Good. It might be his only way of getting home, and he didn't want to think about the consequences of popping off.

He considered where he might be. Last he could remember, he'd collapsed in the middle of the desert. He was now here, obviously, but where was here? Maybe someone'd seen him out there, and taken him in. It was the best solution... but he still had no idea where he was, or what they'd want with him once he was fully recovered.

Ianto spotted a small glass sitting on his bedside table, and he snatched it up and poured the liquid down his throat. The water burned his mouth and he coughed half of it back into the cup. It was sizzling, like fire, but not quite like alcohol. He brought it close to his nose and gave it a sniff- yep, it was highly carbonated water, enough to make him ill for days.

Slightly disgusted, he brought the glass back to his lips and took a sip, shuddering at the pungent strength of it. It was like downing two cans of Sprite in one go. Being sure to keep as quiet as he could, he drank the rest of the glass painfully slowly, then forced himself onto his feet.

He stumbled towards the window, peering down. He seemed to be in some sort of high-rise building, the ground seemingly thousands of miles away from him. The longer he looked, the further it seemed to stretch on in vast eternity.

Vaguely, he noticed some frothy white substance, and recognized it as a beach. He'd been wrong- he hadn't been in the desert, he'd merely been by a beach.

Sighing in relief- or, at least, what felt like it, he walked back towards the mattress he'd been laying on and sat down, closing his eyes for a second.

For the next few minutes, he examined the room thoroughly. There was a bedside table and a lamp. He emptied the contents of the drawers, finding various porn magazines written in different languages. He also found what appeared to be a very large gun (perhaps a hairdryer) and a few packets of pills- or at least what he hoped were pills.

The walls were painfully and quite blindingly white, but there was one corner of the room with a small outlined, glowing blue structure in the shape of a rectangle- it looked like a door.

He decided he must be on another planet, with better technological advances, and so whatever that might be, it was a door. It was a far cry from the doors he was used to, but, still, a door.

He found that strangely comforting.

He dug around in some dresser drawers, finding goggles and several different outfits. He realized his suit had been battered and torn by the wind, and he unbuttoned his suit jacket and shirt, shrugging them off and pulling a fluffy white long sleeved shirt over his head. He exchanged his crumpled suit trousers for a pair of plain tan ones, then slipped a tan vest.

He closed the drawers, folding his clothing neatly and putting it on the bed. He had no doubt he'd really need them, or come back for them... as soon as he had enough energy to think of an escape plan, he'd be gone. He needed to find Jack as soon as possible.

His gaze fell on a few pictures on the dresser drawer. There were only two pictures, one of a young boy with short brown hair and another of an older man, grinning happily at the camera. He picked up the photo frame, glancing at the image for a few seconds before placing it back where it belonged.

Inhaling sharply, he stepped towards the place he thought was the door, alarmed when it opened as soon as he got within a foot of it. He peered out, glanced around, and walked into the other room.

It was fully furnished, everything beige or white. Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, he glanced around. There seemed to be a bar counter, with several chairs lined up nicely.

Something grabbed his shoulder and he jumped, to see a blonde man- maybe in his thirties- frowning at him quite animately. The man uttered something in a language he didn't understand, and he swallowed.

"Sorry," Ianto mumbled, "I don't understand you."

The man's brow furrowed and he grabbed Ianto's wrist. Startled, he tried to jump back, but the man's grip was tight, and his efforts were to no avail.

"Let... go... of... me!" he hissed through gritted teeth, trying to pull his wrist away. The man pressed a few buttons on the wrist-strap and then backed away, holding his hands up in defeat.

"Your translation circuit got fried, I was fixing it. Tell me, exactly what type of a Time Agent are you?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Translation circuit?" Ianto inquired.

The man nodded. "Yeah, I just fixed it. You know, your time rotor circuit is really scrambled. I wouldn't be surprised if the thing mapped you off someplace random every- oh, twelve hours? By the way, what the hell were you doing out in the middle of the beach during a sand blizzard?"

Ianto shook his head. "I just..." his voice trailed off. It was clear that the stranger didn't mean him any harm, and he seemed to know about the wrist-strap too. His gaze fell onto the other's arm, stunned to see the same wrist strap on his arm. "I... it's not mine," he admitted.

Much to his surprise, the other man burst into laughter. "Are you telling me you stole a vortex manipulator from another Time Agent?"

Ianto nodded, then scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Where are we?"

The man shrugged. "Boeshane Peninsula. Before we go there, 'though, how exactly did you steal that thing? I never take mine off."

"Just got lucky, I suppose."

"Judging by your dress, I'm assuming you're from somewhere around the twenty-first century, although when I saw you the first time I thought you were just a Time Agenton a mission."

"Mission?" Ianto echoed.

"Mission. Time Agents are sent on missions through time and space, to supervise deals, keep time in order, and gather any information known on the Endless War."

"War?"

The man sighed. "You really are from the twenty-first century, arentcha? The Endless War. It's been going on for years now. I've just convinced my best friend to sign up for it. It'll be an adventure," he chuckled.

"War isn't an adventure," Ianto spoke sharply. "I need to get back to my time."

"Your time rotor is burnt out," the man pointed out. "I can't send you anywhere without the correct coordinates, either."

Ianto frowned. "I'm going back. Are you going to help me?" he asked, simply.

The man grinned. "I like you..." his voice trailed off.

"Ianto Jones," Ianto said, extending a hand.

"Jackson," the man said, "but you can call me Jack."

And then Ianto realized where he'd seen the man before.

Somehow, and he wasn't sure how, but somehow, he'd ended up in Jack's past.

This was Jack.


	3. Lies

Time Hopper: Chapter 2

* * *

He feigned a smile, head reeling as he took in this realization. "Nice to meet you, Jack." the words rolled off of his tongue with ease.

Jack smirked and moved towards the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink?"

Ianto swallowed. He had no clue what the implications of meeting Jack were... the man hadn't seemed to recognize him in the future. What was he supposed to do? Was he altering the course of history?

"Anything flat," he told Jack, recalling the carbonated water from earlier. "Is everything here carbonated?"

Jack handed him a glass of water, shrugging. "Everyone in this timezone prefers it fizzy."

"Well, it's disgusting," Ianto said, twisting the cap off of the water bottle and placing it on the counter, taking a few swigs of water and sighing in relief. Jack chuckled.

"You're something, you know that, Ianto Jones?"

"Are you naturally blonde?" Ianto wondered. It was strange enough seeing Jack like this, so lighthearted and... happy. Well, happier than he'd ever seen the man, anyway.

Jack nodded. "Yeah. Where are you from, Ianto Jones?"

Ianto shrugged. "Wales, I stuck around Cardiff." his throat constricted slightly at the thought of home. Had they noticed he was missing by now? Probably, he realized, he was thousands of years in the future.

Desperate for a subject change, he thought of the first thing he'd wondered when he'd met Jack here. "You said you needed to fix my translation circuit, what language are we speaking?"

"Standard galactic code," Jack responded easily. "Everyone knows it."

"Except for me," Ianto said flatly. A slight wave of panic washed over him. What if he got stuck here? He had a life back in the 21st century... and he loved Jack, dare he admit it. Was he supposed to settle for this Jack? Torchwood had to be organized... somehow, Jack would leave him and join Torchwood, and there was nothing he could do. He felt slightly dizzy.

"Homesick, huh?" Jack asked, studying the other man.

"Why did you save me?" Ianto wondered quietly.

Jack shrugged. "Cute guy gets battered up in the middle of the beach... couldn't resist. I like a guy who looks good in a suit," he said, grinning and wrapping his arms around Ianto's waist. Ianto glanced in the other direction.

"Someone's moving a bit fast," he said, just as Jack pulled him closer.

"I like to move that way," Jack whispered in his ear.

Ianto nudged Jack off of him, and took a couple of steps backwards. "I've already got someone at home," he said simply. Did he, though, really? Had he ever really had Jack? And was it considered cheating if it was the same person, just a different version of them?

Jack's face fell. "Okay, sorry."

Ianto shook his head. "It's okay." But was it? Was it really?

Jack rolled his eyes. It was strange seeing the man like this, so different in behavior and outward appearance... odd.

Ianto leaned forward, placing his hand on the counter. "So what are the requirements to becoming a Time Agent?"

"Interested?" Jack asked.

"Looks like I'm going to be here for a while," Ianto commented, doing his best to keep his face passive and calm. "Besides, maybe I can learn how to use this damn thing," he said, nodding towards the wrist strap just above his hand and putting on a smirk. It still seemed to fit him.

Jack beamed. "Let's get started, then."

* * *

The next few weeks that passed were hell. Ianto had gone through basic training- which was really just completing a few tests and trials and reading up on the laws of time travel.

"Drug dealing?" he'd asked the not-so immortal man one evening, raising an eyebrow.

Jack had just shrugged and grinned at him. "Time Agents do everything."

"You're like intergalactic thugs," Ianto noted disdainfully. The other man had just chuckled and placed both his hands on the Welshman's shoulders.

"But we're so much more fun that way," he'd breathed into his ear.

Torchwood had made him fit. He knew how to use a gun, how to load it and clean it. (He'd done a lot of cleaning back at Torchwood, and that included the guns.) Still, it was an almost entirely different process here.

"Sonic gun," Jack had explained, handing him the tool that resembled a small blowdryer. "Don't waste its energy on the special features. Those take up all the power."

He spent three days working on the devilish object. His aim improved the fourth day. He had no clue how to recharge it, but this disaster was averted when Jack gave him a power cell that would charge itself.

For the following weeks, Jack seemed to be getting much closer to him, and it was making Ianto nervous. He liked Jack... loath as he was to admit it, he was also falling in love with this version of Jack. But what did this mean for the future? He missed home... he missed Cardiff and fish and chips and the dark-haired captain he knew that always seemed to be armed with an innuendo.

A month passed, and Ianto'd finally finished up on the laws of space and time when Jack came up from behind him with a large-ish box.

"You done yet?"

"Just finished," Ianto said, pulling out of his chair and turning off the florescent desk lamp. He rubbed his forehead.

"Good. I was thinking we could go on a picnic."

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Ianto leaned against his chair, arms folded across his chest.

"Pretty much," Jack admitted.

Ianto grinned. "Good. I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

"Do you miss your home?"

"All the time," Ianto admitted.

"What about that significant other? Tell me about her," Jack pressed.

A few select alarms went off in Ianto's head. "Him."

Jack paused in his speech, taking a bite out of a cleanly cut sandwich and making a face. "I haven't had a sandwich since I was a kid. My dad got 'em for Gray and I... we were studying 21st century food goods."

"Thank God. All your food here is carbonated. It makes me sick," Ianto commented, closing his eyes as he bit down on his sandwich. When he opened his eyes, he was slightly surprised and embarrassed to see that Jack was staring at him.

"You look nearly orgasmic when you're eating, y'know that?" Jack asked, sighing and shaking his head. "I might just have you for dessert."

"Is that a promise or an offer?" Ianto chuckled. "God, you're insatiable."

"Mm, and you wouldn't have me any other way. So, Ianto Jones, tell me about this boyfriend of yours."

"Sort of boyfriend," Ianto scratched the back of his neck and shifted his position so he was lying on his stomach. "I really don't know what we are."

"Well, does this sort-of boyfriend love you back?"

Ianto stared at the other man in surprise. "I... I didn't say I loved him," he stuttered.

"Yeah, and you didn't need to. I can see it in your eyes when you talk about him. Time Agents are psychically advanced, too... you might as well have written it across your forehead."

Ianto felt his cheeks burn slightly, and he wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or from the sun.

"I love him," he admitted. "But... uh, I don't even know what it is. I don't know if he loves me."

Jack extended a hand and placed it on top of Ianto's. "I'm sure he does. Otherwise, I'm going to go back in time myself and give him a piece of my mind."

Ianto swallowed, jerking his hand backwards and wiping it off on his trousers so Jack wouldn't notice it shaking. He was pretty sure Jack was joking- but he didn't know how much he might be messing up the future- or the past. Rather, his past.

Time travel was really fucking confusing.

Jack raised an eyebrow at his sudden movement, and he fumbled for an excuse for moving his hand so quickly.

"Jelly. There was jelly on my hand," Ianto said.

Jack sighed. "You can just tell me, you know. I'm a 51st century kind of guy... I get the signals you're sending me."

Ianto sighed. "No, it isn't like that, Jack. I- I like you. But... I love him."

Jack let out a playful growl and took another bite from his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully.

"Tell me something about him. Anything, just something random."

"Well, uh... I guess he really has a thing for World War Two," Ianto said.

"Something smaller, like a habit of his, something quirky."

"He's so messy," Ianto sighed, rolling his eyes. "he always leaves clothes everywhere... I'm always cleaning up after him. And he always leaves the cap off of the toothpaste... it's bloody disgusting and I'd probably be reminding him right now if I wasn't..."

His sentence was cut off with a sob, and when his body wracked, he realized he was the one crying.

He was sad.

Why was he so sad?

He felt something on his shoulder and he flinched- oh, it was just Jack, Jack's hand on his shoulder.

"Why?" he whispered.

Jack wordlessly sat up, pulling him against him and letting him cry onto his chest.

"Twenty-first century," Jack mumbled into his neck. "The century where people move so fast, everything becomes a blur. But when you move too fast, you risk losing the details."

"I miss him," Ianto sobbed.

Jack just held him closer. "I know."


	4. Betrayal

Time Hopper: Chapter 3

AN: I actually wrote this during my free period, and had a straight (pun not intended) face as I was writing it. I guess I'm getting used to writing more awkward scenes like these. *shrugs*

* * *

Ianto groaned, rolling over and pressing his lips against the back of Jack's head, too drained of any energy to open his eyes. For a moment, he wondered if Gwen or the others had arrived.

But then he did open his eyes, and he remembered he wasn't in the twenty-first century in the Hub. He was somewhere in the future, in the Boeshane Peninsula, in training to become a Time Agent.

And... he was in Past Jack's bed.

With no clothes on.

A lump formed in his throat as he shifted under the covers uncomfortably, turning and peering over the side of the bed.

Lovely. His boxers were on the floor.

Quietly as he could, he pushed his legs over the side of the bed and slipped onto the floor, pulling on his boxers. He was just reaching for his trousers which were strangely in the other corner of the room when memories from last night slowly came trickling back to him.

He ignored the blush the memories had incited and pulled on his trousers, just as the body in the bed groaned. He heard the covers shift and warily eyed Jack as the other man approached him from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Whatcha putting on your clothes for?"

"I need to-" he slipped his shirt on, "finish that paperwork for the Time Agency."

"It can wait," Jack said, turning him around and unbuttoning his shirt.

Ianto pried his hands off of the pearly white buttons and scowled. "Later. Maybe tonight."

Jack's face lit up.

"If you're good," Ianto huffed, buttoning up the sections on his shirt that Jack had left in disarray and turning back towards the door.

He left the bedroom and went into the kitchen, preparing a cup of coffee for himself and Jack.

"Is that coffee?" Jack wondered.

"Yep. And it's not fizzy, for a change," Ianto noted, pouring a cup and handing it to Jack.

Jack shrugged. "I can't help what my taste buds are adapted to- God, Ianto, this is fantastic!"

Ianto grinned, pouring a cup for himself and taking a sip from it, closing his eyes. It'd been too long since he'd had anything flat.

"Even that bloody whipped cream of yours was fizzy," Ianto muttered. "How do you carbonate whipped cream?"

Jack just smirked, and was just about to head off to the living room when his Vortex Manipulator beeped- Ianto's did at the same time.

He flicked open the flap just as Jack did, and there were two echoed voices from the same person.

A blue hologram jumped out in front of him on the floor, and he stared at it in surprise. It was a man in neat military uniform, expressionless and wearing a long green trench coat with a bright yellow hem along the side. His speech was smooth.

"Jack, this is the Colonel. We have trouble up at the Gates. We need you to deliver an Atraxi-made weapon to Raxacoricofallapatorious, Agency Code 184903. Coordinates are 71-59. See you there."

The hologram blipped out of existence, and Ianto watched it blankly.

Suddenly, Jack sprang into action, grabbing up one of the sonic pistols he'd left out on the counter and running into the bedroom, stuffing it into one of the pockets on his Agency coat. He pulled a shirt over his head, and wrapped a manilla brown shawl around his neck.

"Jack-" Ianto began, but the other man was in too much of a hurry to properly listen.

"I've got to go, I'm sorry, Ianto." he grabbed his hand and pressed a quick kiss to it, then snatched one of the duffel bags sitting next to the corner and began stuffing various items into it. "I don't know how long I'll be gone for. Two weeks away has a time aftershock of about two days," he rambled. "This is a pretty big mission, too."

"Jack." Ianto grabbed his arm and stilled him. "The hologram was addressed to you, but I got the message."

"I know!" Jack looked exhausted.

"I got the message," Ianto repeated. "I just turned in my application for the Time Agency. I know all the rules. If you get a message, even if it isn't addressed to you, you're required to go."

Jack froze. "But... your application couldn't have been accepted so easily."

"You're forgetting, this is a stolen Vortex Manipulator," Ianto pointed out. "Plus, it already coded to my DNA." he remembered it coiling around his wrist the first time he'd put it on.

"But the message was addressed to me," Jack finally managed to say, although his voice was strained. "Only one vortex manipulator." he laughed. "What'd you do, clone it?" his voice reached a slightly higher octave.

"I know," Ianto mumbled, voice quiet. "Because this is your vortex manipulator. I stole it from a future you and that's how I ended up here."

A long moment of silence followed his statement. Finally, Jack broke the silence.

"What?"

Ianto grabbed Jack's wrist and unstrapped his own vortex manipulator, pushing it up against the other agent's.

"Look," he said quietly. "Same shape, same size. The only difference is age."

Jack's other hand shakily traced over the worn vortex manipulator, his face stricken with an emotion Ianto couldn't quite recognize.

"How could you keep this from me?" he whispered.

Ianto swallowed, but before he could answer, Jack had immediately turned around and was now stuffing the duffel bag full of clothing, his face blank.

"Come on, let's go. I'll set the coordinates into your vortex manipulator and we'll go," he all but snarled, throwing the bag over his shoulder as a feeling of dread and unease settled itself into Ianto's stomach.


	5. Snowed In

Time Hopper: Chapter 4

* * *

"Come on, come on, he's getting away!" Jack roared, jumping over a chrome fence and leaving the metal frame quivering from the weight he'd put onto it. Ianto gritted his teeth, charging towards the figure disappearing into the predominant night-time darkness.

They cornered the Raxacoricofallapatorian into a nearby alleyway. It froze, and Jack and Ianto covered the exit behind him, a sonic pistol gripped tightly in Ianto's hand.

The alien spun around, giggling to itself (giggling?) and holding up the Atraxi blaster. If Raxacoricofallapatorians could smirk, this one did.

"Just give us the weapon," Jack said sharply.

The green beast pointed the gun right at Ianto.

"I'll shoot!" Jack hissed.

"But as I fall, my finger might just slip on the trigger," the thing snarled back. "Would you like to see your Agency partner pulverized?"

"Give us the gun," Ianto snapped.

"No!" the alien said simply.

Ianto pulled the trigger on the blaster, and winced as alien guts splattered all over the alley wall. He stumbled over to the Atraxi ice-gun, wiping some of the slime on it off on the ground.

"What the fuck was that?" Jack snarled, his face contorted into a mask of rage. "You don't hand the gun over before receiving the payment. And now, thanks to you, we've got our customer in a pile of goop."

Ianto scowled. "You could say. This is my first time on a mission like this."

"And it'll be your last, at the rate you're going," Jack growled, grabbing the weapon from him and stalking off. Ianto hurried to catch him, listening to the sound of his wet footsteps on the floor.

Rain pattered down from the heavens, and he stared ahead into the blank darkness, watching Jack's form waver in the wind. He shivered and brought a hand up to his cheek, to bring it away with snow.

"It's freezing," he whispered. He doubted Jack could hear him over the howl of the wind, but somehow the man had.

"Good!"

His cheeks smarted from the cold wind, and he pulled his Agency shawl a little tighter around his freezing form, whimpering at the icy assault.

"How far until we reach the station?" he yelled, his voice sounding hoarse.

"Not far," Jack said, sounding annoyed. "Just shut up and walk."

Ianto complied, but the snow was piling up like mad by now. He coughed a few times, straining his eyes to see ahead of the storm.

He hurried towards Jack, wrapping his hand around the other man's long sleeved arm and burying his face into his back, surprised when he didn't pull away from him.

A few more steps, and he coughed again. This time he tasted blood.

His vision blurred slightly around the sides, and he let out another cough, before collapsing onto a pile of snow. He could feel the wind pounding down on him, tearing at his clothes. The snow was screaming down on them from the heavens.

He felt something tug at his sleeves, and he realized, slightly delirious, that it was Jack. The other man was pulling him to his feet, and shakily, he stood.

"Are you all right?" Jack shouted, over the howl of the wind. Ianto couldn't read his emotions. "We're almost there."

He forced himself to nod, using strength he didn't have. Grimacing, he struggled to still his shaking body.

Jack pulled Ianto's arm over his shoulder, and the Welshman leaned against the other Time Agent for support as the pair of them hobbled through the storm. A blast of freezing air knocked them both off their feet, and Ianto had lost the energy to stand. He squeezed his eyes shut, the snow wet and cold against his cheek, feeling very, very tired all of a sudden.

"The controls are frozen," Jack coughed, crawling over to Ianto. "We don't have enough power to warm it up or te- teleport, but I've sent a distress signal, help will come."

It sounded like he was trying to reassure himself rather than Ianto.

Jack inched towards him and wrapped his hands around his body, pressing his forehead into Ianto's neck. They shivered against each other.

"We'll be okay," Ianto whispered.

Jack shuddered. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry for not telling you," Ianto gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. A tear rolled down his cheek but it almost immediately froze.

Jack reached out and placed his hand on the scruff of Ianto's neck, pulling his face towards his so their foreheads were touching. He captured the other man's lips in a kiss, and Ianto sighed into the gesture, wondering if it would be his last.

And then he went limp and the world faded away.

* * *

Ianto woke to the smell of coffee brewing from a distance. He groaned and rolled over, confused and unsure of where he was. He'd just been in the middle of one of the Auralux blizzards, a planet known for its wild, extreme, and unpredictable weather patterns, and now, he was back in his and Jack's apartment in the Boeshane Peninsula.

And there was coffee in the kitchen.

That meant Jack was here. Everything was probably okay if Jack was here. It usually was.

Most of the time, anyway.

He stumbled out of bed, realizing he was dressed in the same clothes he'd been out on his mission in. He inwardly moaned, realizing his clothes were still freezing and damp and the bed had been completely soaked with snow water.

Changing into another Time Agency uniform, this one beige denim with long sleeves, he set off into the kitchen, reveling in the hot blast of air that greeted him.

"You've got the heater on," he noted, his throat slightly sore but perhaps a miracle from what he'd just come out of.

Jack smirked and handed him a cup of coffee. "What did I tell you? They just sent us some power and teleported us back home."

"I'll have to wash the sheets," Ianto noted, reaching up to his cheek to touch a cut the ice had made and involuntarily shuddering.

Jack took a step closer to him, cupping Ianto's cheek and pressing a kiss to it. "You okay?" he asked, quietly.

Ianto swallowed the lump in his throat. "Fine. I'll just get started on the laundry."

He gulped down a mouthful of the coffee, barely blinking when it scorched his throat. Placing the mug down on the counter, he left and re-approached the bedroom, pulling off all the sheets and bundling them up into one damp mass of cotton. He placed them on the panel that teleported laundry goods to the Agency's station and watched them blink out existence.

Exhaustedly, and without another word, he marched back into the kitchen and took a seat at one of the bar chairs, sipping awkwardly from his steaming mug of coffee.

Neither man spoke for a while.

Ianto finally forced himself to speak, because this conversation would inevitably occur sooner or later. Swallowing nervously, he quickly bit out the phrase and felt the hairs on the back of his neck perk up as soon as he'd finished speaking.

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, it was your first mission," Jack said.

Ianto shuffled his feet. "I wasn't talking about the gun."

He heard Jack inhale sharply, and hr paused a moment, before continuing.

"I shouldn't have kept it from you. It's... I don't know how I was going to do this, to be honest. I mean, I met you, and... you're the same person. I love you. And you are him."

"But you love him more," Jack commented bitterly.

Ianto shook his head, refusing to meet the other man's gaze. "I didn't say that. You both are just... so different. It's like I've fallen in love with a different person. You're more forward, outspoken. You tell me everything, you don't shut him out like he does." he was surprised by the blunt truth of his statement. He didn't realize he'd felt that way about his relationship with Old Jack until he'd spoken out loud.

"He would never tell me he loved me," Ianto continued. "There was always something on his mind, something bothering him, but when I'd ask, he'd change the subject. You aren't afraid to be open with me. But even if his actions spoke louder than words ever could, I didn't need him to tell me. I already know."

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"But... when I look at you, I don't see him. I see a different man than the one I fell in love with," Ianto whispered, staring at his shoes. "You... you're like an echo of him. You're so much less and you're still so much more."

"Is that it, then, did you just jump into bed with me because I remind you of him?" Jack snapped.

"Aren't you hearing a word I'm saying?" Ianto stood up abruptly in his chair, the movement sending the chair screeching backwards. "I fell in love with you because you're different than him! I didn't mean to... but it feels like cheating on him because you are so different. But there's times when you're both the same!" his voice broke at the end.

There was a long pause of silence.

"You said you joined the Agency to get home. But had you considered that you might be rewriting time?" Jack asked.

Sighing, Ianto slipped back into his chair. "Yes, and no. I'm not sure if future you knew me already, but it doesn't seem like it."

"So when you find a way home, you're going to go back to him," Jack clarified.

Ianto nodded simply. "Yeah."

A wave of pain washed over Jack's face, and he found himself quickly backtracking.

"Not like that," he said. "It's just... he needs me more. And I need to be there for him."

"I understand."

"But do you?"

"Yes."

There was another long pause.

"We'll work on getting your vortex manipulator fixed so you can get home, and then we'll find a way to wipe my memories," Jack decided.

But the next day, Jack went to war.


	6. Interlude

Time Hopper: Interlude

* * *

The Endless War was, in a sense, quite endless. The Time Agency had been formed for the sole purpose of defeating the enemy, and collecting money and information for the cause. Jack had been solely requested to join by the general himself- in person. There was no turning back once the man had left the Boeshane Peninsula.

In the weeks that passed, Ianto filled his time with work and missions for the Time Agency, cleaning up radiation spills and haggling for new weapons. He did his best to stay away from danger, opting for the safer jobs and duties.

Two long, strenuous months passed until the door opened and Jack came home to him. It'd been so long since Ianto had looked up and see Jack walking into the flat. Now, he looked like a different man. Gone was the blonde hair, replaced by a darker shade of spiky brown hair. The Welshman's breath caught in his throat. For a second, he almost forgot that his Jack was miles and years and millennia away from him.

"He's dead, they killed him and let me go," Jack babbled, throwing himself into Ianto's arms and crying. "Why would they let me go?"

Ianto held him and buried his face in his neck, closing his eyes.

This wasn't the Jack he'd met months ago when he'd fist landed on the Boeshane Peninsula. This was his Jack- broken, but not beyond repair. Not yet.

Or so he hoped.


	7. Part Two: The Year That Never Was

Part Two

* * *

_Two Years Later_

Ianto Jones stood in the bow of an approaching wave, the lip of the water frothing at the edges as it crashed towards him. A brine of aluminum-shaded liquid smashed towards him, and he watched it with a reproachful glare as the living water crawled onto the sand towards him.

He turned at the sound of footsteps behind him, making something of a smirk as Jack approached him with a small white box in his hands.

"I've got it," he said simply.

Ianto's head bobbed up and down. "Yeah."

"I'm gonna miss you," he said, tracing a finger along Ianto's jawline and pecking his cheek with a kiss.

"I'll miss you too," Ianto said, averting his gaze as his eyes started to burn. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them, he forced himself to look at the box in Jack's hands. "How does it work?"

"It's like a memory lobotomy. You're cutting them out so they don't exist- although not literally," Jack explained. His tone was slightly flat and a bit of a deadpan. "But you can still give them back," he whispered.

"I will. I promise," Ianto said, struggling to keep his face straight. The barrier between them broke and he hugged the other man close to him. "God, I'm going to miss you."

Jack pulled back slightly- not breaking the hug- and looked at Ianto, forcing a teary grin onto his face. "Hey. I'm gonna see you again."

"Of course you will," Ianto said, pulling him back and closing his eyes. "'Course you will." Inhaling sharply, he glanced at the roaring waves behind him. "How do I use it?"

"Just press it to the back of my head. It's programmed to cut out the last two years of my memory away."

"What about-"

"The War? No. They don't- they aren't programmed. They think... well, war veterans. They need good fighters," Jack said smoothly, and Ianto could tell he had rehearsed saying it.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Doesn't matter," Jack replied simply. "Are we gonna do this or not?"

"Yeah," Ianto whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'll see you again, mister," Jack smiled.

"You will," Ianto repeated, and, with a shaky hand, he pulled up the box and pressed it to the back of his head, watching his husband's eyes roll into the back of his head.

He laid him on the soft sand- high enough where the tide wouldn't reach him, but where he would be discovered.

And he pressed two buttons on his vortex manipulator, disappearing from this world and entering the fray.

* * *

Something was wrong, and Ianto found out so immediately. The world was swirling around Ianto in a myriad of colours, the time-travel headache hitting him like a bullet. Groaning, he realised he was lying facedown on the soft, muddy ground, and he forced himself to stand, shakily.

He quickly put up his hologram projection, tapping in the code and panting heavily, and he was just wondering if he should put up the perception filter when an explosion behind him knocked him off his feet.

He let out a short bark that was more of a shout of pain, collapsing to the ground and fumbling for the buttons on his wrist strap, trying to figure out his location.

Something was wrong, wrong, horribly wrong.

An explosion blossomed behind him and he winced as the ground beneath him trembled from the impact. He glanced upwards to see three metallic spheres hovering above his head.

He dug his fingers into the dirt, gritting his teeth and doing his best to drag himself forwards.

But before he could even think to reach for a gun, his vision blurred and everything cut to black.

* * *

When he awoke, he was lying somewhere soft- not entirely soft, at least. Not soft to a level of comfort, but he'd grown accustomed to sleeping on the ground during his escapades as a part of the Time Agency. He could recognise a small mattress with ease- and what he was lay on was just that.

Pain blossomed along his back when he attempted to sit up, and he groaned at the stiffness in his muscles. Stretching slightly, he managed to sit up.

His legs were shaking.

"You all right, mate?"

He glanced up- and nearly fell over in shock.

Owen.

It was Owen.

How was this Owen? Had he made it, was he back home?

"It's you," he choked out.

Owen stared at him, as if he were insane, and, then, realisation seemed to sink into his expression. "Oh, I see. Not another one," he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. Ianto opened his mouth to say something- although he wasn't sure exactly what- but Owen cut him off abruptly. "No, I don't do autographs, thanks. Just let me look you over, see how you're doing."

Ianto quickly shut his mouth. He wasn't sure if he was in the past or the future. Something about this equation just... wasn't right. He could feel the _wrongness_ of it tearing at his skin. He began to sweat when Owen leaned towards him and rolled up his long-sleeved shirt.

At the back of his mind, he wondered what he looked like. He hadn't got a chance to look at what image his hologram had given him. Hopefully, the same image as before.

"So, what's your name, then?" Owen asked, as he ran a scanner over Ianto's forearm.

"Alonso-" he froze, mind racing as he thought of a surname. "Frame," he finished, although there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. He tried it again. "Alonso Frame." the name tasted strange on his tongue.

"Lovely. Tilt your arm to the side," Owen grumbled, freezing when he saw the Vortex Manipulator on his wrist. "Shit," he muttered. Ianto stared at it for a moment, before yanking his arm back and rolling his sleeve up again.

"What year is it?" he asked.

"I'm sorry?" Owen glanced behind him.

"Tell me, what year is it?" Ianto demanded, grabbing Owen's arms and shaking him. "Just tell me what year is it?"

"2007!" Owen all but yelled. "It's 2008 next month!"

Ianto froze. "But..." he felt like a fish, mouth gaping open. What was he supposed to do? Was this some sort of alternate universe, or-

The Year That Never Was.

_"How long were you gone?"_

_"Sorry?"_

_"Your eyes... they look... older."_

_A sigh. "A year."_

_"That long?"_

_"I... I wanted to come back for you, I swear. But... imagine, an entire year that didn't happen. The Year That Never Was."_

_"How's that possible, Jack?"_

_Another sigh, and then a peck on his forehead. "Go to sleep. I'm here now."_

He'd read about paradoxes. Never run into one. It was a subject he'd barely studied at the Time Agency- but he knew time could be reversed. How he'd even managed to land here was... almost impossible.

It was wrong.

Owen was yelling for Tosh, shouting at the little wrist strap on Ianto's arm. The one that Jack had had. Lost in memories, the world seemed to shut out around him.

Jack had disappeared, they were looking for him. Wearily, he looked up to see that there was a gun held to his forehead- by Owen. Tosh looked like a mess. He wasn't surprised. If he'd seen someone wearing Jack's wrist strap, he would've automatically assumed they'd...

If his mind wasn't pinwheeling with questions and panic, he might've said something in his defence. But... was he going to get out of this one?

And then Owen cocked the gun.


	8. Chapter 8 Doesn't Exist

AN: Alonso says 'sir' on the Titanic... Heh. Sort of lines up with my evil plan to make a CoE fix-it canon compliant... Heh. MUAHA! MUAHAHA! MU- (cough cough) Need to work on the evil villain laugh. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter! (While I go look up acting guides... and learn to stop using so many ellipsis' to emphasize dramatic points.)

**whovian24601 **Thanks for reviewing! :D I'm really enjoying your OC series. For your question; It wasn't really explained that well, sorry, but I had Ianto (Alonso) put up a hologram projector when he (crash)landed in the Year That Never Was- he doesn't know what he looks like, but it has changed his appearance so he looks like the Alonso we all know from DWho... hope this answers your question. :)

* * *

"Where's Captain Jack Harkness?" Owen demanded.

"I don't know," Ianto answered honestly.

"Bloody brilliant. Quit lying," Owen snarled, and he was surprised (well, not so much) at his caustic remarks in such a serious situation.

If this was the Year That Never Was, the year that didn't happen and wouldn't happen, and he'd crashed here... then where was the other him? The past him?

Was he dead?

He was a bit shocked at how... well, unsurprising this thought was. He'd seen Jack when he'd returned after those four months. The man had still made the bad jokes and incessantly flirted, but there was something different, under that demeanor, something... broken. And he'd kept on glancing at Ianto and the rest of the team like he was amazed they even existed.

Shit. He was dead.

"Owen, what are you doing?" Tosh demanded, sounding thoroughly exhausted- and he didn't blame her.

"He's got the same wrist strap as Jack had- so I'm guessing he has an inkling as to where our Captain is," Owen all but snarled.

Ianto's mind raced with explanations as to why he would have a Vortex Manipulator identical to Jack's. What would happen if Owen shot him here? He was already temporally displaced... even if time was reversed, he would still die here. Here, in the middle of nowhere at all, in a bloody disgusting warehouse, by Owen's hand.

That would be so embarrassing to have on a gravestone.

But Owen was eyeing the wrist-strap like an avaricious dragon eyeing a mouse in its pile of gold- and that really wasn't helping him to think.

"I'm a Time Agent," he said, simply, because telling the truth was honestly the best excuse of all. He was too tired to think, too tired to lie. "I'm someone from your future, but I've crash-landed here. Uh, so I can't tell you who I am." It was half of the truth. The best he was willing to give them.

He hoped it was enough.

Owen sighed and pulled the gun away, crouching down to meet Ianto's gaze. "Right. And how do we know this isn't a load of bollocks?"

"'Cause I haven't got a clue as to what's going on," Ianto said simply. "Well, that, and I know how to use this." he held up his wrist.

"Doesn't prove anything," Owen said, sharply.

"What do you need me to say to you to make you believe I'm telling the truth?" Ianto asked, expressions contorting into a yawn. He really was tired- like drowsiness was pushing him further and further down onto the little mattress.

"You can say anything. Sing it, for all I care. But, I won't believe ya," Owen retorted, angry. Why was he angry?

"Why's that?" Ianto murmured.

"Because what future is there?" he snapped.

He noticed Tosh grab onto Owen's shoulder. "Owen," she spoke, quietly.

"No, sorry, Tosh, but someone's got to say it. There is no future for us. Not out there," Owen snapped.

"You'll get through this," Ianto told him. "I can't say how, but you will."

"Yeah, reassuring, that is," Owen agreed, rolling his eyes. "Future, yeah, but where we're all toxic puddles of fruit juice."

"Jack's on the Valiant, right?" Ianto wondered, his mind racing. "He never told me much about the Year..."

The truth of his words hit him, then. Jack had never shared anything with him. Not the Jack he knew, the Jack in the future. It'd been Boeshane Jack who'd really loved him, loved him entirely, confided in him and shared everything with him. Told him everything. He barely knew Future Jack. Just his past. Nothing about his present (and God forbid) his future. How could he ever have left him? But, he knew. He did know, didn't he? Future Jack really needed him... and, as loath (not really) he was to admit it, he needed him.

And he couldn't abandon his Jack. Not when he saw the team like this. Even knowing it'd happened, and, at the same time, hadn't, it still killed him to see Tosh so sad and... broken, and Owen so... pessimistic. Like the world had already ended. Like they were just waiting to become ingredients in a toxic soup.

Owen stood. "I'm sick of your babbling," he snapped. "Spy or not, I don't give a shit. I don't ever want to see another human being die, so if you want to kill us, just get it over with. Or you can help us fix this bloody planet."

With that, he retreated further into the warehouse, Tosh in steady tow. She was so quiet- so reserved- so much more than usual. It broke his heart.

"Is Ianto dead?" he called, because he had to know.

"No," Owen shouted back. "He's on the Valiant. Are you helping or not?" he asked, sharply.

"Helping with what?" Ianto asked, mind reeling from the information Owen had just stared with him, only half listening.

"Alonso Frame," Owen yelled. "This is a Toclafane."

And then he held up a metal sphere.


	9. Open

AN: Whoo! Stalling on Mourning's Night again! No, jk, I had to do my Social Studies project; not a lot of time to write. (For my final, I'm supposed to write this sort of vignette missing scene thing for this book we've read. I'm thinking about posting it... just for fun. What do you lot think?)

P.S. Forgot to tell you. There's no Gwen in this story. She doesn't exist... hehehe. (Mainly because I abhor writing for her. I hate writing for annoying characters.)

* * *

"We were really lucky to incapacitate it," Owen explained. "The explosion- we set it specifically to catch them."

"What is that?" Ianto edged closer to the spheric object resting in Owen's hands. It looked like a food steamer of some sort, with four identifiable spiky edges.

Owen scoffed. "Where have you been living?"

"Boeshane Peninsula, hundreds of years in the future." Owen shrugged and placed the sphere on the metal table. It hit the surface with a soft _clang. _Tosh handed him an Exacto knife, and Owen pried it under one of the four edges, trying to pull it up. It was odd, terribly so, to see Owen using an Exacto knife like that. He'd always hated them.

There was somewhat of a struggle for a minute or so, but he finally managed to pry the egg-like device open.

He supposed, grimly, that it was a bit upsetting that the thing inside the shell hadn't unnerved him in the least. Working for the Time Agency had ensured that he'd get enough nightmares to last the rest of his life.

Strangely enough, Owen barely blinked. Even Tosh, the most modest, kind person in Torchwood hardly batted an eyelid.

He wondered what they'd seen here. Vaguely, he recalled the London riots- when people'd thought the world was ending, they'd nearly drowned in the widespread panic and disbelief. He'd been in shock himself at the events of Canary Wharf. How was he to know how the human race would really react when it was truly the end of the world?

He didn't want to think about it. He just needed to get out of here and find Jack. Find a power source - because the battery on the bloody wrist strap had burnt out when he'd crashed - and then find his Jack.

Because he didn't know what would happen to him if he stayed here.

"It's a human head," Owen breathed, but then his tone turned cold. "But it can't be."

The head giggled. "Martha Jones. Tell us, little man, where is Martha Jones?"

Ianto's breath caught in his throat. "Who are you?"

"We were broken," the head chimed. "Hundreds of millennia distanced from you. But the Master, he made us so pretty."

"Past, no, can't be past, because... future. You're from the future," Ianto muttered. "Time reverses... paradox. But to sustain a paradox, you need a paradox machine. So we destroy the paradox machine, time goes back to normal."

He also knew that a paradox machine would be enough to recharge his Vortex Manipulator.

"What are you on about?" Owen snapped.

"It's us," Ianto said, heavily. "It's us, from the future."

"Why?" Tosh asked quietly. "Why do this?"

The little head chuckled maniacally. "Because it's fun!"

Ianto scooped up the gun Owen'd left on the autopsy table and shot it, feeling sick. Dread encased him in waves, and he sighed.

Valiant.

Jack was on the Valiant.

"Have you run scans on the Valiant?" Ianto asked, turning towards Toshiko. The technician nodded. "And there's a massive power source, running on ten point eight negative alpha neutron core?"

"What are you suggesting?" Owen asked, rubbing his forehead, and just looking so, tired.

"There's a paradox machine, on the Valiant," Ianto explained. "I studied that at the Agency- not that well, but well enough to know that in order to sustain a paradox, you need a paradox machine. I don't know where he got the power from, but somehow, someone's created a paradox so that future us can come back and..."

"Slaughter us," Tosh finished. "You're saying that the Master's made a paradox machine?"

Ianto frowned. "The Master?"

"God, you really aren't all here, are you?" Owen sighed. "The Master. He created the Toclafane. Killed the president. If that paradox machine's on the Valiant, you're never going to get to it."

Ianto's mind raced. "Someone's going to get to it. And I have to try. Are you going to help me?"

Owen paused. Mulled it over.

"Fine," he said. "But you're calling the shots."


	10. Coda

AN: Warning; there were no tomatoes in my house when I wrote this chapter. And, if you've met me, then you should know that tomatoes are my brain food. Literally. But I ate them all doing beta work... Oops. So, currently, my brain is running on Valentine's Day chocolate.

Blame the chocolate.

* * *

_One Month Later_

"Say goodbye to the laptop," Owen announced, beaming proudly as he tapped a couple of keys. A loading bar flitted up to the centre of the screen, and, honestly, Ianto had never been more glad to see a loading bar. Crooking his head, Owen turned, eyeing the technician behind him. "Well, now we know that the world's ending; Tosh isn't ripping out our faces for using her computer battery to power Alonso's wriststrap."

It was really, really strange to hear a caustic remark from Owen. He hadn't heard one since- although, the past wasn't something to think about. It was just something he knew he had to return to.

Tosh's brow furrowed.

"Sorry," Owen apologized quickly, turning his attention back to the computer. "You only have one shot at this, Alonso," he reminded Ianto. Ianto nodded in affirmation.

"It's unpredictable, yes, but not a far jump," he spoke. Owen clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Good. Well, then, Alonso Frame, are you ready to save the world?" he quipped, sending a smirk in his direction.

"Sir, yes, sir," Ianto mocked-saluted him, grinning and unplugging the computer battery from his vortex manipulator, clapping the lid back on the device.

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I'll race you to hell," Owen said.

"I'll be waiting," Ianto responded, placing his thumb over his vortex manipulator. "Wish me luck!" he whispered.

"Bye, Ianto," Tosh and Owen chorused, and he froze, finger just above the teleport.

"What?"

"We aren't stupid," Tosh said. "There's only one person who could make _that_ good of a cup of coffee. Now, shut up and save the world!"

"Bye," he whispered, as the world frayed at the edges around him.

* * *

The poignant air stung his eyes, and Ianto winced, stumbling where he stood. Where was he? Steamy vapors rose up from the floor. Some kind of a boiler room, perhaps? He knew better than to shout out for someone, almost instantly activating his perception filter. He was more than surprised at the fact that it came to him almost instinctively.

He tripped, the world hurtling around him, and he leaned against one of the pipes, stilling himself. His heart pace quickened as he clambered down the halls, and he let out a pant.

He really hated time travel.

Then he looked up.

"Oh, God."

The words escaped his lips involuntarily, and he winced at the sudden noise, tempted to clap a hand over his own mouth. He pressed a finger against his lips, shushing the man- Jack- before him.

The Captain was an absolute mess, covered in dirt and- blood? His own blood? His hands were manacled and he was just barely suspended upright. There were countless bullet holes in his shirt- and Ianto felt his hands shaking.

He could feel Jack's eyes burning into his skin, so he worked silently, clicking a button on his Vortex Manipulator and letting the manacles loose with a soundless click. They swung out towards the metal beams, just barely missing the metallic piping. He winced in anticipation of a loud clang, relieved when it never came.

"Come on," he whispered, allowing Jack to lean against him, supporting all the weight of the older man on his shoulder.

"How the fuck did you get on board?" Jack slurred. Ianto could almost hear his heart thrumming gently as he pulled the older man down a hallway in search of an exit. He'd studied the map of the Valiant well with Owen, worked out all the details of an escape.

But, judging by how much Jack currently weighed, the man had just recently died.

"Harold Saxon," he hissed. "Where is he?"

"Flight deck," Jack mumbled. "Who-" he winced in pain, and stumbled a bit.

"Alonso Frame, I'm from the future. Where's the paradox machine?" he demanded, glancing around nervously when his voice jumped up a volume level.

And then Jack started laughing. Ianto clapped a hand over his mouth almost immediately, but the immortal didn't stop laughing.

It was about that point when Ianto realized he'd begun to cry.

"Future. We make it out of this," he whispered.

"Yeah. I don't know how," Ianto admitted.

"How did you even get here?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Vortex Manipulator. It's out of battery; lo and behold the great fall of Time Agency equipment."

"You have to get the hell out of here." Jack panted slightly, pushing away from Ianto and picking up the pace on his own. "Machine's this way," he grunted, ushering Ianto down the hall.

They both froze as an intruder alarm went off.

"Fuck," Jack voiced, saying it all. They broke into a run, and as soon as they turned the corner, the TARDIS came into view.

"Quick, quick, quick," Jack said, reaching over and pressing a few buttons on Ianto's Vortex Manipulator. The doors quietly creaked open, and Ianto and Jack both stepped into the box, leaning against the wall and panting. They both grinned at each other, breathless.

"That was kind of fun," Ianto admitted.

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "Come on, let's get this thing sorted." They moved up to the center console, and Jack frowned and bent over, moving away a piece of grating. "You need an engine cell, that should power it up," he explained.

"Here, let me help you." Ianto leaned over and extracted a clump of wires from the floor, reaching his arm into the mess of machinery. "Then we can blast this thing to oblivion," he added.

"Ooh, nobody said there would be fireworks!"

Both men turned around at the sound of the Master's voice.


	11. Time Hopper

AN: I'm super excited for the next few segments. And for my mom to get new tomatoes. But for now, enjoy this chapter!

R&R!

* * *

Ianto blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, the Master was standing in front of him.

"You can't possibly host a New Year's party without me present," the Master scoffed, skipping towards them. Under his feet, the grated flooring seemed to moan. A smirk peeled across his lips and he casually leaned against one of the TARDIS corals. "Shame on you," he hissed.

Ianto immediately began to search for an exit. There had to be some way out of here; there always was. He could see Jack doing much of the same thing out of the corner of his eye, but a little more frantically.

He suspected that Jack already knew there was no way out of this one.

Exhaling sharply, he stepped out from behind Jack. "Actually, your paradox machine is a bit..." he bit his lip, paused for effect, and because he hardly knew what he was saying, "vulnerable."

The Master scoffed.

"No, honest. This is a class III Armada Time Agent you're talking to. The time rotor's a bit heated up, which means every thirty days this thing goes into overload. That's why the pattern of Toclafane over Earth increases; because you need to heighten the defenses to protect this thing. Of course, it's pretty much unavailable to anyone who hasn't got a key, but you're missing the important fact; this ship is alive. It can let anyone in who's already registered or, who it trusts," Ianto shrugged. "But that's just my opinion."

He could feel Jack's eyes burning into the side of his head already, so he continued. "Well, I don't know. I mean, if I were you? Fix it."

"So there's a flaw in the plan! No biggie," said the Master.

"Don't need to be so Smaug about it- sorry, no Hobbit yet, forget I said that," Ianto mumbled, feeling a slight pang in his chest on memory of Lord of the Rings- it'd been Past Jack's favorite series. But he had his Jack here, right now, and he was going to get him out of here.

(And mentioning a future Lord of the Rings didn't do much to stop Jack's gawking.)

"But, you really shouldn't have let me talk, because while we've been blabbering away, my time travel device has been charging up. And it's nearly enough to get both me and Jack off this ship. Sorry," Ianto spoke, rapidly pressing buttons on his vortex manipulator, while keeping his gaze fixed on the Master. "But, Harold Saxon, it's over."

The Master blinked. Then smirked. "Oh, no. No, no, no. You see, I can recognize a temporal filter right where I stand. No, no, you- you're Ianto Jones. And you've crashed here."

Ianto didn't look Jack in the eyes. Just stared at his shoes.

"And now, I'm going to kill you," the Master leered.

And then he held up his laser screwdriver.

"No," Jack said.

"Sorry?"

"I said, no!" Jack roared, lurching forward and wresting the laser screwdriver from the Master's grip.

Ianto dove forwards, as if on autopilot, clutching at the laser screwdriver and scooping it up, clenching it tightly in his fists.

"Isomorphic controls!" the Master bellowed.

He cast the heinous device to the side and gave the Master his best glare, before flipping open the control panel of his wristrap with his thumb. His fingers danced across the controls. "Too late," he sniffed. "It's over." He pressed the button with his forefinger, wincing at the expectation of the nausea time travel would create.

But nothing happened.

Jack stared at him.

And nothing happened.

"You've put it on overload," said the Master. "One person- oh, this is _good_! Go on, then, who will it be? The Captain? Or his little pet?" A smile twisted its way across his lips, and he leered at the dumbstruck Welshman standing in the corner.

"Get out," Jack whispered.

Words couldn't come to Ianto. The world seemed to churn around him in circles, and he swayed back and forth, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the images.

When he closed his eyes, he could just see Jack. Forget, just for a minute, drifting through the black space and... remember.

"No."

Sounds reverberated in his ears, and the corner of his mind screamed that it was the Toclafane hurtling down the hallway at incredible speeds, but he told himself it was just his own hummingbird-wing paced heartbeat and nothing else.

But he well knew the inevitable.

"You get out of this," he croaked. "You do, you get out of this, I swear. And..." he blinked, his voice scratchy and raw from the tears he was holding back. "And I love you."

"Me too."

It was the closest thing Jack would ever come to a confession of love.

Ianto pressed the button and teleported.

* * *

AN: Oh... cliffhanger! Yay! ...Or not.

P.S. Did anyone notice that (the real) Captain Jack Harkness was in Monuments Men? No, I'm serious here. Matt Rippy, the real Captain Jack Harkness' actor was in Monuments Men as an American Colonel during WWII. Creepy, huh? O_O


	12. Future

"Please be the bloody right location," Ianto grumbled, for what felt like the ten millionth time he'd time-jumped. He exhaled a slight hiss of pleasure as one of his bones cracked back into the right position, and, legs only slightly shaky, stood.

His hologram was still up- same as last time. The projector chose from a list of already existing humans with a disguise or knowledge they could match. 'Alonso Frame' was a real person whose identity Ianto was simply 'borrowing'. (Without permission.)

It would be really awkward if they were ever to meet.

Ianto was already physically drained from the jump, not to mention mentally exhausted. He'd seen his share of shit (something guaranteed working for a job like Torchwood), but he simply couldn't explain the fear and pain meeting the Master had brought him. There was just something about the man that was positively fearsome.

And the completely defeated look Jack had given him wasn't helping that much.

In truth, he was a lot more shaken than he felt at the moment. He knew that. He just needed some time to _think_- sit down and take a breath of air. But he'd been time-hopping for so long, just looking for a version of Jack that would coincide with him he'd never thought about what would happen when he found Jack again. Would he be upset with him for taking his Vortex Manipulator? No, Ianto would probably scold him first for taking his diary. Especially when they'd lost the last two days of their memory; maybe Owen would be in the middle of a rant when he got back. Tosh would just roll her eyes and sigh impatiently, Owen would make some caustic remarks about "bloody Torchwood" and he would make them all coffee.

Tears sprung up in his eyes at just those details. God, how he missed them. Home. Torchwood. Working at Torchwood One in London had always felt like another office job. Everyone cold and compliant, caught up in their own jobs and their own minds. Even with Lisa, there wasn't any comfort in his other employees.

But Torchwood... his Torchwood... it was different. There was no way for anyone to be mad at another there. Everyone was tightly-knit, they were a team, not just employees sitting at desks in an office with parchment-white walls and the scent of latex gloves, there was something more to it. They were so _unprofessional_, so childish and immature it was simply impossible not to grow close to them. In the years he'd worked there previous to the Cyberwoman incident, he'd kept his head down and just done his job, because it was all for Lisa. He hadn't so much at glanced at what the others were doing, but now he couldn't stop thinking about them. He wondered if they would miss him- he sort of hoped they would, in his own selfish way. But he understood timelines, and if all went according to plan, he'd arrive back in his own timestream, older than them but without a day to put to their faces.

Previously, Ianto had focused all his energy on getting back to Jack, but now- now, he knew that he had to get back to all of them. He had to hear one of Owen's snarky remarks about the horrid, terrible (nonexistent) 'weather' in the Hub, hear Tosh's laugh or see her smile again. Seeing them once more... it was all he really wanted.

Shakily, he stumbled in his movements, nearly falling over again.

(I really need to get over the timesickness thing.)

Something glinted, almost eerily in the distance, and he frowned at it. Stepping forwards to get a better look, neck craned towards it, his brow stiffened and he chanced another footstep across the daring ground.

"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone there?"

No response. Just the same consistent beeping of the light.

(He really hoped he was on Earth.)

"Hello, is anyone there?"

The light shifted, frighteningly fast, and he was suddenly reminded of the giant anglerfish from Finding Nemo.

(Should I run? No, I'm not sure. But what is it? I can't make out a figure... can't be, an it?)

The thing was spiraling towards him, tearing through the air at hundreds of miles per hour, and Ianto realized... it was barreling towards him.

He could just make out its shape when he dove out of the way with a startled yell, left shoulder crashing onto the ground with a loud (crunch).

His vision blurred again, and he could just make out the form of a man stepping out of some– whatever it had been, hand outstretched in a welcoming gesture.

_Hello, Ianto Jones._


End file.
